One Day Like This
by the-Mad-Majesty-of-Muchness
Summary: After fighting with Tarrant, Alice takes a walk to cool off and realizes a few things. Set to Sarah Brightman's song of the same name, third in my Halice song series.


**AN: ...I have nothing to say except that if you know the song, you'll see the connections to it in here, and that I own nothing... .**

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Alice had been stewing for quite some time—or at least what felt like quite some time—as she walked at a brisk pace, not paying a scrap of attention to where she was headed and not particularly caring, either, just as long as it was away from there and far enough that she could cool off and collect herself before going back. She and Tarrant had just fought for the first time since getting married, and it had only ended when Alice, having finally gotten fed up and deciding she'd had enough of watching his eyes change from one color to the next and the colors fighting for dominance, had stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind herself and not even throwing so much as a single glance over her shoulder as she tuned out the shouts and crashes coming from inside.

It had been stupid, really, the reason for the fight. She had tried to go into his workshop (by this point, she couldn't even remember what reason she'd had for doing so in the first place), and Tarrant had flatly refused to allow her to enter the room, at least for the time being, because he had the mercury out and didn't want her to be affected by it like he had. She had protested that she was mad in her own right, anyway, so what difference should it really make? He had continued to stand his ground on the subject, though, and next thing they knew, it had turned into a full-out argument. Thinking back on it, Alice didn't know what could have possibly come over her to make her react the way she had. After all, he had only been looking out for her, just the same as he always had right from the very beginning, and besides, he was right; it wouldn't be good for her to have mercury in her system, because then who would help bring Tarrant back to his senses when he needed it?

As she came to a stop among the garden of talking flowers, some of them noticed her there and when they did, some would greet her either verbally or with a simple nod, and some acknowledged her with a simple smile before turning back to their conversation partners, and Alice would return these half-heartedly, though the flowers didn't seem to notice this. She began walking again, this time more slowly, taking time to drink in the morning sunlight and trying to shake off the heavy weight that was filling her chest. She felt overcome with guilt and wondered what had made her behave the way she had, using words that she never in a million years ever thought she would use with Tarrant, of all people. Then again, he'd said some things, too, but she knew that he'd only been thinking of what was best for her because he loved her, and theirs was, after all, a mad sort of love, so who was to say she hadn't been fueled by that mad love of theirs, as well?

Funny. She hadn't noticed until now, but it was looking as if it would turn out to be a rather beautiful day.

She wished that there was someone else who could explain to her what she was feeling when she had trouble working it out herself. She had known when he had asked that it would have been wrong in the eyes of London Society for Alice to marry a milliner, much less one gone mad from the mercury (then again, most of the ones affected by mercury who lived Aboveground were locked up in places like Bedlam, so it wasn't as if there was much of a chance to meet one if a person lived Up There), not only because of the whole messy issue with the separation in Societal Rank, but also, of course, because of the issue of her family's disapproval—and particularly that of her mother. Not only would it have been wrong, it would have been silly in some respects. But when she had said yes, she had done so not only out of love for him and because she wanted to be with him always, but also because on some level, whether she realized it or not, however uselessly it may have been given that Helen would never even know Tarrant existed, let alone that Alice had married him, she had wanted to prove to her mother and to Society that Separation of Rank didn't matter, because Love made every match Vividly Right. And besides, she loved it when Tarrant kissed her as if they would both die that very night. Then something occured to her.

How, Alice wondered, could she have _possibly _decided that she had grown tired of watching his eyes shift from color to color? She loved his eyes! Of course, she liked them best when they were green because that meant that he was more himself than he was when they were something besides green, but she always liked them no matter what color they were. The fact that they changed with his mood was just part of what made him so perfectly himself, which was what she loved him for. It was part of what made him her Mad Hatter. She saw the light now, so to speak. That was to say, she understood now that she'd messed up. And it was a big mess-up, too. She was beginning to wish they'd gone with their urge to just stay in bed half-awake all day. Of course, she really only had herself to blame for that, too, seeing how she had been the one to convince Tarrant that they both had things they needed to do that day. He'd just wanted to lay there with her. She regretted it now. Maybe then there wouldn't have been a fight. That was it, she decided. Time to go home and make things right, so she spun on her heel and began heading back the way she'd come.

It really was looking like today would be beautiful, she thought.

Sometimes Alice found herself wondering, usually when looking at her own reflection, what she would look like when she got older, whether she would get creases on her face or if maybe her lips would get thinner. Both were possible, she supposed, given that it had been the case with her mother. She had once seen the term "chamois-creased" used in a book to describe someone whose face was lined with age, and she'd thought it a strangely pretty term that fit her mother in that it seemed...elegant like Helen, though perhaps not in quite the same way. Alice supposed she wouldn't mind so much if the same thing happened to her, because then she would have an excuse to call herself chamois-creased if she so pleased. She wasn't sure how she felt about her lips thinning, though she supposed it wouldn't be so bad as long as she could still kiss her husband. She just hoped that his eyes wouldn't ever change except in their usual way, that they'd always be the same bright green they'd always been and only change with his mood, same as always.

Because she loved his eyes just the way they were, same as the rest of him.

When she got back, Alice was met with the sound of absolute silence from within, and she didn't know whether that was good or bad considering the state Tarrant had been in when she'd left earlier. She found the shattered remains of one of countless tea cups scattered on the floor against one wall with spatters of blood leading away from the mess, and when she followed the trail, it led straight upstairs to a door near the back of the house. Laying in front of the door was another piece of the broken tea cup smeared with more blood that still looked fairly fresh, just like the blood smeared on the doorknob. The door itself wasn't closed all the way, so she softly pushed it open and found Tarrant sitting on their bed staring down at the floor as he repeatedly clenched and unclenched one fist, apparently unaware of the fact that blood was dripping from his hand into a small puddle at his feet.

The first thing she noticed as she began cleaning and bandaging the cut on his palm was that his eyes were a raw sienna color mixed with a gray tint. The gray wasn't very surprising given how sad he appeared in just about every possible manner. And that raw sienna was something that she had come to associate with those moments when he couldn't seem to find the words he needed. In fact, he didn't even flinch when when she poured iodine over the wound, because he was too busy grasping at straws, stumbling over what to say. "Tarrant," Alice said finally, cutting him off as she finished bandaging his injury. She smiled lightly and shook her head. "It's alright. You don't have to say anything." She took both his hands in hers, making sure to be gentle with the injured one, and led him over to the window, pulling the curtains back and holding them in place.

"Look at what a beautiful day it is," she said.

He looked outside, and his eyes slowly returned to green before he turned and smiled at her, and she smiled back. She let the curtains fall closed, then grabbed them with both hands and threw them wide open, letting the sun come streaming in. After cleaning up the tea cup remains and the blood, the two of them went all around the house together opening all the curtains to let the sun into every room. When they were done, Alice turned to him and smiled.

"Have I ever told you how much I love your eyes?"

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**...Again, I have...like...nothing to say, so...*shrugs***


End file.
